When the Story Continues (Sequel to When the Script Changes)

Mon had been patient.

For months, she and Sam had been dating—or at least, something close to it.

They went on small dates. Late-night drives where the world felt like it belonged to just them. Quiet bookstore visits where Sam would secretly buy Mon's favorite books before she even realized she wanted them. Ice cream runs where Sam always gave Mon the last bite, even when it was clearly Sam's turn.

But despite all of that—

Sam never kissed her.

Not even once.

Mon knew Sam wasn't the type to rush things.

She knew this wasn't some casual fling for her.

She felt it.

In the way Sam held her hand like she was holding something precious.

In the way she looked at her—like Mon was the only thing in the world that made sense.

In the way she waited.

Not because she didn't want Mon.

But because she wanted to be sure.

And Mon?

Mon wanted to be chosen.

Not just as the girl Sam spent time with.

But as hers.

Her girlfriend.

Her person.

And tonight—

That was finally going to happen.

---------

It started like any other date night.

Sam picked her up, as usual.

She didn't say where they were going—just took Mon's hand and led her outside like she had a plan.

Mon was used to it by now.

With Sam, things were always a little unpredictable.

But when they pulled up to a quiet rooftop garden, Mon felt something different in the air.

Soft fairy lights twinkled above them, casting a warm glow.

The city stretched out below, breathtaking and endless.

And Sam...

Sam looked nervous.

Not the kind of nervous she usually was before a test or a big presentation.

This was different.

Softer.

More... vulnerable.

Mon's heart skipped.

"Sam?" she asked gently.

Sam cleared her throat, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "You like it?"

Mon smiled. "I love it."

Sam exhaled, like she had been holding her breath. "Good."

And then—

She reached for Mon's hand.

Not like she usually did—casual, easy.

This time, she held it tightly.

Like she needed courage.

Mon squeezed back, a silent I'm here.

And just like that, Sam finally spoke.

----------

"I've never done this before," Sam admitted.

Mon frowned. "Done what?"

Sam licked her lips, eyes dropping to their joined hands.

"This," she whispered. "The real kind of love."

Mon's breath caught.

Because Sam didn't say like.

She said love.

Sam inhaled sharply, then met Mon's gaze.

"I know I'm not always good at saying things the right way," she said. "But I need you to know that—this? You and me? It's the most real thing I've ever had."

Mon felt everything all at once.

The warmth of Sam's hand in hers.

The pounding of her own heart.

The way Sam was looking at her, like she was the only answer to a question Sam didn't know she was asking.

Sam took a shaky breath.

"I don't just want to be someone you date."

She swallowed.

"I want to be your girlfriend, Mon."

Mon froze.

Because she had been waiting for this.

For months, she had been waiting.

Not just for a kiss.

Not just for the title.

But for this moment—the moment where Sam finally, finally chose her.

Mon grinned, eyes shining.

"Sam..."

Sam tensed.

Mon stepped closer, lifting her free hand to cup Sam's cheek.

Her voice was soft, but certain.

"Yes," she whispered. "A hundred times, yes."

-----------

Sam let out a shaky breath.

And then—

She kissed her.

Finally.

Soft, slow, intentional.

Like every second they had waited for this had been worth it.

Like Sam wasn't just kissing her lips.

She was kissing every moment they had shared.

Every almost.

Every not yet.

Every silent promise that had been left unspoken—until now.

Mon had been kissed before.

She had loved before.

But this—

This felt like the first kiss that actually meant something.

Because this wasn't just a kiss.

It was a beginning.

A promise.

And Mon?

Mon had never been more sure of anything in her life.